


Sterek Prompts

by PajamaSecrets



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PajamaSecrets/pseuds/PajamaSecrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Stiles/Derek ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paint

“Derek,” Stiles groans, “Your house is so gross. Can you at least, you know, try to make it not look creepy as hell?”

“It was in a fire, Stiles.” Derek hisses.

“Yeah, and you know, it might help your mental health to spruce it up a bit.”

Derek rolls his eyes and ignores.

***

“Stiles,” Derek sighs in exasperation, “Go.”

“I brought paint. And rollers.”

Derek rubs his face with his hand. “We are not painting my house.”

“We so are,” Stiles replies, tossing a paint roller to Derek.

“It’s my house.”

“It’s also where you decide to hold pack meetings, and as an honorary member of your pack, I’m painting this thing.”

Derek sees the relentless determination in Stiles’ eyes.

Time to give up.

“What color?” Derek asks.

Stiles grins from ear to ear.

***

After two hours, they’ve done most of one side.

***

It’s getting dark.

“Should we paint the porch?”

***

They finish three sides of the house by the end of the day.

“We can work on the roof tomorrow,” Stiles suggests.

Derek walks Stiles to his car.

Stiles lingers, leaning against the jeep.

Derek’s eyebrow twitches.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“You’ve got some paint,” Derek gestures.

Stiles runs the back of his hand against his cheek and just manages to make the smear worse.

Derek sighs, lifts his hand, and wipes Stiles’ cheek with his thumb.

“There,” Derek says.

“Uh,” Stiles utters hoarsely. He watches Derek’s chest rise and fall, the thin fabric of his t-shirt rubbing against his skin.

Derek takes a step closer to Stiles, trapping him against the jeep.

“Your heart is racing,” Derek says, placing his hand on Stiles’ chest.

“Umm, it is?” Stiles babbles. “I’m really sorry about that, you know, maybe I should get going…”

“Shh,” Derek whispers, then leans forward to let their lips meet.


	2. Baking

Stiles opened the front door, and walked towards the kitchen to get an after-school snack (meaning the entire fridge).

That was until he heard a loud thunk and his heart did a one-eighty.

“Dad?”

No answer, because his dad was at work. Stiles knew that.

So there was really only one possibility: someone had broken into his house.

Fuck. He dug around in his backpack for his heaviest textbook and opened the door to the kitchen with a battle cry.

The textbook clattered to the floor.

“Derek?” Stiles gaped.

“Needed a kitchen,” Derek scowled.

“Wh… how… What?”

“Wanted to cook something. I have no kitchen,” Derek explained, holding out a plate.

Stiles grabbed the plate Derek was offering. “This isn’t cooking. This is baking. These are cookies. There is flour in your hair.”

Derek shrugged.

“Is this a creepy way of apologizing for spraining my ankle last week?” Stiles asked.

“Maybe.” Derek answered.

“I’ll take it.” Stiles sighed.

Derek smiled.

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

Derek resumed scowling.


	3. Phone

Stiles is propelled backwards into Derek after the witch like… explodes all over the place. Stiles ends up half on Derek’s lap, half in the dirt.

Stiles shifts to get up but freezes when he notices something hard poking into him. Stiles twists to look at Derek and raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

“That’s my phone. I swear,” Derek hisses.

Stiles smirks. “You sure? Because I actually wouldn’t mind if you had a boner.”


	4. Cat

“Did you honestly get me a cat?” Derek gapes.

Stiles stutters. “I-I… She just showed up on my doorstep, and Dad says I can’t take her, so I thought you might…”

Derek sighs, looking at the bundle of fur in Stiles’ arms. A female tortoiseshell cat looks up at him. Derek reaches out to touch it and it doesn’t recoil like practically all felines do around werewolves. Derek is pleasantly surprised.

“Well, it has guts, I’ll give you that,” he says. “But I can’t keep her.”

“She won’t be that much work! There’s got to be plenty of birds and mice and stuff around your house, right? She can eat those. And… it must get pretty lonely around here. Maybe it might be nice.”

Derek looks at the little cat again. Its eyes are bright green, like Laura’s were.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But it better learn not to shit in the house.”


	5. Panties

“I need the witchcraft encyclopedia,” Stiles mutters as he types away on his computer.

Derek grumbles. “Why can’t you get up and do it yourself?”

“I’m the one trying to figure out whatever spell you say they’ve put on Allison, alright? You be a good dog and fetch me the book. In my dresser, bottom right drawer.”

“I am so sick of the dog jokes,” Derek practically whines, getting off of his chair and heading to Stiles’ dresser, leaning down to open one of the bottom drawers.

“Uh, Stiles?” Derek asks.

There’s a few pairs of women’s underwear in the drawer. The one on top of the pile is a pair of lacy red boyshorts.

“Derek, how hard is it to open a drawer,” Stiles groans, turning around, then jerks when he sees what Derek’s looking at. “Bottom right, Derek, bottom right drawer!” He runs over, slams the drawer shut, opens the other one, grabs his book, and storms back to his desk. His entire face is red, as is his neck.

“Um, I’m sorry-” Derek starts.

“Just shut up.”

“Panties? Really… You steal women’s panties,” Derek states.

Stiles doesn’t answer.

“Does your dad know that you-“

“They’re mine,” Stiles’ voice cracks. “They’re mine, Derek. Now can we please close the subject?”

Oh.

Now Derek’s face is red.

Because now he’s thinking about Stiles in those red panties.


	6. Sandwich

“Come on. Up you get,” Stiles pokes Derek incessantly until he hears an annoyed grumble.

“In a minute,” Derek responds, then promptly turns over and ignores Stiles.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Stiles groans. “You have a concussion and I need to wake you up every two hours.”

“I’m fine,” Derek sighs, eyeing Stiles with as much condescension as possible.

Stiles puts his hands on his hips. “Well, your head was pretty messed up when I found you, and even if it’s not anymore because of your creepy werewolf super-healing, I’m gonna wake you up every two hours. So shut up and wake up, dude.”

”Don’t call me dude,” Derek says, annoyed, sitting up in bed.

“There’s the sourwolf I know and love. Alright. What’s your name?”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, this is what it says I’m supposed to do on WebMD.”

“Derek.”

“Cool. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I want to strangle you.”

“Good, everything sounds normal,” Stiles smiles. “You can go back to sleep now. 

“Great,” Derek mumbles, drifting back to sleep.

***

Stiles wakes Derek up a few more times, asking the same questions. 

Eventually, it’s 7:30 in the morning, and Stiles wakes him up again.

“Hey, man. I gotta go to school. So, time to wake up for real. Alright?” Stiles says. “My dad gets home from the overnight shift in an hour. So do your best to leave before then.”

Derek nods, and Stiles heads down the stairs, backpack slung over his shoulder.

***

When Derek finally gets up and walks down the stairs, nursing his aching head, he sees a bottle of Tylenol and a ham sandwich sitting out on the kitchen counter.

There’s orange juice in the fridge. I didn’t know how many tylenol werewolves have to take you need, so I just left you the whole bottle.

-Stiles

Derek smiles. 

***

The sandwich has too much mustard, and not enough ham, but Derek likes it anyway.


	7. Seven Minutes in Heaven

“Enlighten me, what is seven minutes in heaven?” Derek asked, raking his fingers through his hair, clearly annoyed by the gang’s teenage shenanigans.

“Um. Well. We’re playing truth or dare.” Stiles replied, his voice cracking gratuitously. Stiles hoped that Derek couldn’t see how red his face was in the dim light of the closet.

“I gathered that.”

Stiles swallowed in fear. “It involves… Canoodling. Of the mouth areas. For seven minutes.”

Derek eyed Stiles incredulously.

“I’m not kidding! Ask Scott!” Stiles yelped, raising his hands.

Derek sighed in irritation. “I don’t believe you,” he stated, reaching for the doorknob.

It didn’t open.

Derek slammed his fist against the door. “Scott! This isn’t funny,” Derek yelled.

“It’s hilarious!” was Scott’s reply. Stiles could hear Allison and Lydia giggling. Dear god.

Stiles shrugged. “Look, no one really ends up doing it; you usually chicken out. That’s the point. Humiliation. Et cetera.”

“Stiles, calm down. Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“Heart rate, out of control, ok, there’s no reason for that to be happening, stop it, heart, slow down there, oh god I’m going to shut up now,” Stiles spewed out, backing up as far as he could in the closet away from Derek.

Derek sighed. “I can smell your arousal, you know.”

“What?!” Stiles squeaked.

“Yes. And I’ve smelt it for several months now whenever we’re in the general vicinity of each other. You can stop trying to act normal because you’re failing miserably.” Derek said, arms crossed.

“Um. Sorry. I can…. uh, fix that.”

“You can’t help who you’re attracted to.” Derek said.

“I guess not. Look, I’m really sorry, you can rip my throat out with your teeth now if you want, before I die of mortification,” Stiles looked away, voice shaky.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed, Stiles. It’s perfectly natural.”

Stiles turned to Derek, prepared to yell some string of insults until he saw Derek’s teasing smirk.

“You fucker! You think this is funny, don’t you!”

Was that a chuckle? Stiles needed to get his ears checked.

“Listen, I don’t mind that you have a crush on me. It’s… endearing.”

“Uh. Alright.”

“Just give me a bit more time, alright?”

Stiles gaped. Then he noticed he was gaping and clicked his mouth shut. “Yes. Okay. Good.”

Derek let out a breath he was holding. “Thanks.”

Stiles nodded, at a loss for words.

Derek rolled his eyes and leaned in towards Stiles. His breath was hot on Stiles’ cheek, andoh my god, Derek Hale is going to kiss me—

“Time’s up!”


	8. Cake

Scott trudged through wet leaves and dirt towards Derek’s dilapidated thing he called a house. He seriously needed to consider getting an apartment. Or a roof, at least.

“Hey Derek,” Scott said as he walked through the entrance, tapping away on his phone. He didn’t raise his voice. Werewolf hearing and all that jazz. “Stiles found the article on wolfsbane you wanted.” He looked up from his phone. “Derek?”

Derek growled, walking towards the door. When he came into view, Scott raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. Derek’s face was reddish, he had no shirt on, and his pants were unzipped. He was also sporting a raging hard-on.

“Go away, Scott, I’m busy.”

“B-Busy doing what?” Scott stuttered, backing away.

“What does it look like?” Derek grumbled, clearly growing impatient.

Scott’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Alright then, I’m just going to leave as quickly as possible,” Scott said in a rush, heading for the doorway.

Suddenly, a scantily clad Stiles sauntered into view. “Hey Derek, I found the lube— HOLY FUCK!” He screamed, dropping the tube of K-Y.

“Stiles?” Scott squeaked.

“Uh. Hey,” Stiles said, giving Scott an awkward wave.

Scott ogled at the two for a minute.

“I’m just… gonna… go, now…” Scott said, pointing outside.

“Then go,” Derek hissed.

Scott ran.

He was going to be scarred for life.

—-

Scott knocked on the door to the Stilinski household.

“Hey sheriff,” Scott greeted Stiles’ father. “Is Stiles home?”

“Yeah, he’s in his room,” Sheriff Stilinski said, gesturing towards the stairs. “Go ahead.”

Scott ambled up the stairs and opened Stiles’ door. “Stiles, listen, I need your study guide for the AP World History test—”

He was greeted with Derek going down on his best friend. Scott slammed the door. “My eyes, my eyes,” he whined before going back down the stairs.

“Going so soon?” The sheriff asked, looking up from his newspaper.

“Yeah, uh, Stiles is busy studying. I’ll call him later.”

“Alright,” the sheriff said, going back to the paper.

Scott high-tailed it back to his house and contemplated locking himself in his room and never, ever leaving the house again.

—-

It was Scott’s turn to bring the snacks to movie night. The gang met up at Stiles’ house and gathered around the TV.

“I brought cake,” Scott said, dumping his plastic bag on the coffee table.

“Awesome,” Stiles said, reaching for the bag, and pulling out a cake box.

“Stiles? Why are you blushing?” Allison asked, giggling.

“Nothing, nothing at all, yes, nothing,” Stiles babbled, putting the cake down.

Scott had to pay the bakery lady 5 extra bucks to get “CONGRATS ON THE SEX” written in frosting on the top.

The look on Derek and Stiles’ faces was worth it.


End file.
